


lost

by SilverMoonT



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Friends With Benefits, Happy Ending, M/M, Post-Time Skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:09:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25771873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverMoonT/pseuds/SilverMoonT
Summary: You are Osamu Miya, twenty years old, black roots and gray tips. You are no longer sure of the decisions you have made, you miss your brother and his annoying yet enthusiastic tone of voice (though you'll never admit it out loud), and you have romantic feelings towards the one person you promised you wouldn't fall in love with because emotion-free physical contact and whispered words in the middle of the night were supposed to be enough.You are lost. You feel lost.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 8
Kudos: 80
Collections: SunaOsa





	lost

They tell you that as soon as you finish school —before, actually, since you have to have everything perfectly calculated— you must know what you want; when, where, how, in what way. You are bound to have a plan to follow, step by step, word by word, or else it will be your downfall; you will end up being surrounded by nothing but emptiness. When you're only thinking about the last times you'll use the same uniform you've managed to wear for the past three years, with your eyes almost closing, tired because staying up late doesn’t seem like a bad idea until your alarm goes off and you actually do regret it, when you are only thinking about how annoying the Geography professor is and what excuse you plan to say when the History professor asks you why your homework is incomplete (because, come on, saying that you didn’t feel like it and that in fact is not one of your interests, it's not the right answer, right?), and when you're only thinking about asking your friends to spend the rest of the afternoon together, you're also thinking about what you want to do for the rest of your life.

Because yes, it’s like this, you have to think about what you want to do until your last day comes when in reality you only want to go back to your house to take a nap, and perhaps dream about the person you like, or perhaps no one, really, just dream and escape a little from the overwhelming yet fascinating reality you live every day.

Life is hard. From one day to the next you stop going through the same corridors as you stop sitting on the same desk that you have claimed as yours although no desk has your name, but hey, this piece of wood and boring color belongs to me because it’s my place, and if you dare to sit, I will throw an awful glare at you. It is what it is, we always have to be showing what belongs to us, right? There's no need for a name tag because you know who it belongs to, and it's up to you whether you want to challenge the system or not. The social, the educational system? Who knows. Maybe both of them. Maybe none. You’re probably actually just challenging yourself.

You listen, you pay attention, you ignore everything around you when the only thing you can focus on is your friends expressing with confidence what they want to do for the rest of their lives. Study, play volleyball, go to college, work. There are many options, it seems like that, but they are not really many. Yes, you can’t really count with your fingers the number of existent university degrees you could get and the diversity of colleges is immense, but it always comes down to the same thing no matter what you decide to do: it's about what you will do, every day when you wake up, for the rest of your life. It does sound repetitive, doesn't it?

Osamu believes he no longer knows the difference between repetition and routine.

He is sure that a routine implies a repetition, but does a repetition imply a routine? Of that, he’s no longer so sure. A routine is an acquired habit of doing something in a certain way, something that doesn’t really require much reflection or decision-making, while a repetition is the action of repeating, and what is repeating? Redoing a thing that has already been done or saying something that has already been said. And for that? For that you do need to reflect, or at least take five seconds to say yes, I want to repeat this. Or no, I don’t want to.

I want this. Again. I don’t want this, no.

What does Osamu want? He has not the slightest idea.

Or maybe he does. But repeating something implies doing it first.

And alas, you have to be brave to dare to take the first step.

Osamu feels...

Lost.

As if his brain were like a dictionary —if he still has enough brain cells to find the definition of that word in some corner of his head because in reality, seriously, he already feels that he is on the verge of exhaustion. Exhaustion of what? _And what the hell do I know_ , is the only answer that comes to his mind—; finally, the imaginary lamp appears above his locks, now gray and black because it's just hair, to remind him that, unfortunately, lost means not having a certain destiny. Being confused and not being able to move forward in solving a problem, a difficulty.

Completely lost, totally confused; with doubts hitting his head like a mine and his remaining brain cells holding hammers, knocking every corner of his head, over and over again, not giving up on the idea of finding diamonds while he thinks about the stupid relationship that he can find between the charcoal he only counts with and the black color of his locks. Twenty years old, two centimeters taller, a little more of weight, muscles the same as before and not so upright posture, he finds himself kissing none other than Suna Rintarou.

Or at least, making the attempt, because,

With daintily curved lips still characterized by a pink hue no matter how many times their mouths have met, half-lidded eyes that judge you no matter what time of the day it is, color Osamu still doesn’t know whether to define as green, gold or a mixture between the two although he is aware that he has had a lot of times to try to decipher it, are helped by the slight arch of an eyebrow that only adds more security to the expression of confidence and narcissism that Suna has learned to reclaim as his personal brand. Suna brushes Osamu's chin with the tips of his fingers and that is enough to make their faces remain an inch apart so that Osamu understands, again, that although they no longer have to wear the same uniform or attend the same classes side by side, Suna still has the ability to read him.

"You want to tell me something," Suna says, rather pronounces in a low voice.

Osamu doesn’t understand why since they are the only two to in the whole house. Atsumu no longer lives there and his mother is away, his father? He hasn't known about him for years. So again, it's just him and Suna; speaking in a low voice, he doesn't really complain, since speaking in a low voice, as if the whispered and spoken in a loud voice words were about secrets, is what allows Osamu to realize how lost he is. Perhaps it would be a good idea to complain, but he doesn't, and for the same reason one of the corners of Suna's mouth rises as he also barely tilts his head, an almost undetectable movement.

"But you don’t dare," Suna adds and Osamu can only wonder why Suna has decided to accept the offer of a professional volleyball team when he could have chosen psychology to study the most expressionless people, until he remembers that Suna's abilities have been of great help when it came to winning their last high school volleyball tournament because reading intentions is also useful when there’s a net and two teams wearing different uniforms. "What is it?"

Osamu licks his lips instead of answering.

Looking to savor the latest traces of Suna or trying to save more time even though it’s only a gesture that hopefully takes a whole second? He doesn’t know, because he really doesn’t know. There are no excuses, there are no obstacles, there is no type of sign that tells him where to go or that somehow makes him think that he has options from which to decide. He is completely lost, and feeling that way, sometimes leads him to hold thoughts that are not really very pleasant, as well as other times to make decisions that don't contain a gram of intelligence.

The palms of his hands are still at the sides of Suna's legs, on the counter of his kitchen but without touching an inch of Suna's skin because with Suna he knows when it’s convenient for him to move and when he shouldn’t do it under any aspect, because whether he wants to or not, Suna is always watching him, analyzing him with the dubious color of his eyes that he can only express with confidence that falls within the green and yellow gradient. Suna has chosen to hug himself just to keep his arms busy while at the same time he chooses to straighten up although the distance between their faces stays the same.

"Give me one last kiss, please."

At least he says please. That’s good, right? Only for Suna he says _please_.

It means that he is not that lost because at least he remembers that he must have manners when it comes to Suna, although if there is someone who knows how bad he can be because he gets angry with easiness and because his calm facade as well as his expressionless facial features are just a small part of him, it’s Suna. He believes that it’s for that reason that with Suna he behaves well, because Suna has earned that part of him, the one that respects him, and because certainly, sometimes he is afraid of him but Suna doesn’t realize, or maybe yes, he probably does. He can be intimidating when he wants to even though the strands of his hair point everywhere, he acts like the happiest person in the world when he gets a new phone case as a gift, and his favorite food is not even a meal, but chuupets.

"If you use the word last, then I think I know where you're going with this."

Trying to trick Suna is a waste of time. Osamu can only wonder how he has managed to do it in the last weeks, the last time and therefore the last moments they have been sharing. Of course, always without their clothes in between, or maybe in the middle but only helping each other to get rid of them. Never in public, always in private because seeking each other in the same way has become a discretion that leaves much to say and much to think about, too much to think about.

"I can’t do this anymore."

Osamu no longer knows if he is thinking too much, or not thinking at all.

"You can..." Suna whispers and Osamu wonders if he speaks that way, low and only for him so that he is focused on him all the time instead of looking for distractions, although Suna is a distraction himself and if he speaks along with a low or high tone of voice it doesn’t matter because he forces you, he demands you to pay attention to him. Osamu really doesn't know what he's doing anymore, but the moment Suna stops hugging himself to then take his face between his thumb and index finger —his nails painted black because he remembers that Suna always tells him that he chooses to paint his nails every time he takes the train from Nagano to Hyogo to stay focused— he realizes he hasn't thought too much. He has thought absolutely nothing because Suna stops decorating his expression with his characteristic mischief to remain totally serious when it comes to intoning, "...fuck off."

Osamu doesn’t think but his body reacts as soon as Suna tries to get off the kitchen counter because finally the palm of his hand stops meeting the cold of the marble to surround one of Suna's wrists, causing him to watch him, to sit with his back right in order to gain the extra centimeters that corresponds to him and stare down at him.

"Wait, Suna."

"’Give me one last kiss please, I can't do this anymore,’ who do you think you are?" Suna struggles with him but Osamu knows that he really isn't doing it because if Suna wanted to get rid of the physical contact between the two, he would apply more force than he is applying to achieve it. "A poet? That we are in the middle of a stupid and pathetic romantic movie? It's the twenty-first century, Miya, you can text me, I wouldn't mind. After all, when I'm not wasting my time with you, I'm using my phone."

"Don't call me Miya."

"I call you however the hell I want."

"Don't get like this." Osamu finally stops holding his wrist but Suna makes a brusque move and holds his own wrist with his other hand, replacing the firm sensation of Osamu's fingers with the softness of his, as if he were desperate to remove all traces of the contact between the two but not desperate enough because he only strokes his skin as if he had been wearing an uncomfortable watch for a couple of hours. Osamu watches the movements of Suna's hand for a moment, both knowing that it’s really impossible for either of them to get hurt, although for that same reason Osamu moves away from him to give him space. He knows very well when it’s in his best interest to give Suna his space. "I'm bein’ decent and I'm not leavin’ ya."

"You are not leaving me because there is nothing to leave."

Suna can close his legs only because Osamu has moved away and therefore now he has the possibility to do so, choosing to cross one leg over the other and therefore inevitably getting Osamu's gray eyes to lower to that part of his body, since the black jeans that he is currently wearing looks too good on him and shows that training with a professional team is not the same as practicing every afternoon in a high school gym because there is more muscle, more development, more experience, and—

And for all the gods that Kita doesn’t believe in, this is not the moment, so he raises his eyes again to find Suna frowning, that gesture being enough to make him believe that perhaps it’s not so inconvenient to stay focused on the way that Suna's legs are completely striking without the need to show every inch of his pale, soft —Osamu knows for himself— skin.

"If there's nothin’ to leave why are ya getting’ like this?"

Suna runs his gaze at the pronunciation of those words and, _ah_.

Not _oh_ , but _ah_. Because Osamu raises his eyebrows, slightly, a simple movement that indicates understanding of what a simple gesture like running his gaze instead of corresponding it can mean. _Ah_ , because apparently Suna knows how to hide and pretend as much as he does and perhaps that is the reason why all this has started between the two of them. Quiet, sarcastic, side by side. They are almost the same person, aren’t they? How wrong that phrase is. No. It’s an _ah_ and not an _oh_ because Osamu doesn’t feel fulfilled, he is not relaxed and a slight tension continues to accompany his entire body as well as the shoulders of Suna, who still doesn’t look at him and has chosen to leave his own hands on one of his thighs, one on top of the other. Osamu takes his eyes to those, and believes that it’s worse to think that he wants to hold them with his own than to think that he wants to take off Suna’s jeans as he has done many times before.

"Why do you say you can't do this anymore?" Suna asks him.

Many reasons. Many possible answers. Same trigger.

"Cuz almost four months ago we hooked up. We promised not to do anythin’, we kept doing it. We promised not t’ talk about it, and yet here we are."

Suna looks at him and Osamu can only swallow because Suna is scary.

"Here we are, but you don't want to talk about it because you can't do this anymore."

Osamu can be scary, too.

If they are together? A chill is inevitable. When they are each on their own? It’s the worst.

Osamu approaches him and Suna instantly stops holding one leg on top of the other to allow Osamu to be between them because it’s a reflection of his body, a habit he has become accustomed to as his eyes have become accustomed to watching Osamu, an irony, actually, considering that Osamu still considers Hyogo his home while Suna now lives in Nagano. And yet, face to face, they are, again.

"Why d’you think I can't do this anymore?" Osamu asks him.

The countertop material feels cold against the palms of his hands. He dislikes it.

Suna also leaves his on the counter, although he prevents the contact between them himself because he leaves his hands on the small space that has been left between his jeans and the edge of the counter, that move allowing him to lean towards Osamu, again the distance being dangerous but never too little or too big. "Because you are not interested, because you got bored of me."

"You really are stupid." Osamu makes sure to highlight the last word because having manners is not the same as accepting nonsense. "Aren’tcha?"

"We used to be in the same class, you answer your own question."

"Hah." Osamu's false laugh is accompanied by the fake smile that appears to decorate Suna's face, and both are fully aware that if Atsumu were present, he would look at them thinking that they have already gone crazy, while if Kita were present, he would tell them to stop and quit looking at each other like that, but life changes, and just as neither Atsumu or Kita are present at that moment because they have all stopped wearing the same uniform, they can both keep looking at each other that way. "D’you know why I can't handle this anymore?"

"Why?"

"Cuz yer like this."

Suna narrows his gaze, the black color of his eyeliner not helping to lessen the seriousness of his expression, but rather, exaggerating it as he forms a line with his lips and Osamu forces himself, really forces himself to hold his gaze instead of lowering his eyes towards the annoying pout he has formed with his mouth.

"Surprise, you chose me." Suna determines.

"Yes, I chose ya," Osamu confesses and Suna's brow deepens but not out of anger. Out of confusion since Osamu has expressed those words without hesitation, without tripping over those letters, until his face begins to soften as well as the tension in his facial features to dissolve and now he is only looking at him the same way Osamu feels: lost. "Can you do the same?"

Falling in love is not always something nice, something that all it does is make you smile when you least expect it or when you are not even thinking about it, when the curves of your mouth just rise up because your brain assures you that your thoughts are pleasant and for the same reason you are happy, expressing it through a charming smile and a happy gesture on your face. Falling in love is also allowing seriousness to take over your face when you realize that what you have and has started with a person close to you is no longer enough because you want more and you don’t know how to express it without sending everything to hell, even if you feel like the situation is already the vivid expression of hell. It’s to fall into the reality that what you thought was a game, maybe it’s still a game but not entertaining anymore and maybe with no way out, with no possibility of repeating the game in case of losing. It’s a self-created trap, a maze from which you feel it’s impossible to escape no matter how many different paths you take, and for the same reason, Osamu feels lost.

"What do you mean?" Suna asks him.

Lost because you don't know what to do with exactitude and the only thing that turned out to be a distraction, something, someone, that forced you to remove your head from real problems like feeling that you are stuck while the people around you keep moving forward, is no longer a distraction. Because you like to cook, you love cooking, but culinary school? It’s not as interesting or entertaining as you thought it would be. Also, you don't want to admit it but you miss your twin —but you will never, never, admit it out loud even if you really miss him—, not to mention that you are suddenly alone because the second person closest to you is gone just to come back as the person you sleep with and later, as the person you like, you cherish. Lost because the dead ends are still piling up and you really don't have the slightest idea what to do other than end up cooking nuggets at three in the morning while you wait for your mother not to get up because really, what you least need is for your mother to start asking questions whose answers you can't really provide.

"What do you mean?" Suna repeats.

"If I choose ya, would you choose me?"

Osamu has nothing planned, so he really can't say that he is totally surprised by the question he has just intoned. He likes Suna, and that is a problem because a problem is a debatable question that must be solved or for which an explanation is sought, and although Osamu has an explanation, which is simply that, well, love is love that and feelings are a mess, and uh, he likes Suna, Osamu doesn’t want Suna to be a question to be solved, because a possibility of achieving that end may imply the disappearance of the problem and therefore of Suna leaving; so when at that moment Suna straightens up again, not to be more intimidating, but to allow him to see the arch of his eyebrow, Osamu swallows.

"You want to ask me if I would go out with you?" Suna asks him. "Is that what you want to ask me?"

"What if that's what I want to ask ya?"

Osamu lets out a sigh as soon as the last letter of that sequence of words leaves his mouth and chooses to stop being in front of him to move and lean his elbows on the counter, next to him but still not touching the fabric of Suna’s jeans with some part of his body. He clasps his own hands, knowing that even if he is looking at them, Suna has turned his head to look at him.

"I know you're not using me as an excuse," If it wasn't for his voice being calm at the right time, Osamu would have believed that he might have been frustrated with the fact that Suna isn't answering his question. "But what are you not telling me?"

Osamu turns his head to avoid looking at him and his gaze meets the garden of his house. His birthday is near, he knows it not only because it’s his birthday and therefore his brother's, and if there is something that Atsumu strives for, it’s in reminding everyone that his birthday is close, but also because slowly, the days turn gray, little by little, sometimes the sun rises and it’s appreciated, but sometimes it’s already necessary to go out with a scarf and gloves. Osamu never wears a beanie because he thinks it ruins his hairstyle (yes, he doesn't care as much about his hair as his brother, but he does care anyway), and he knows that his birthday is near because the backyard of his house is losing its green color that his mother tries so hard to take care of throughout the year.

"Did you fight with your brother?"

"No."

Suna knows that in the case of a fight with Atsumu, he doesn’t mention it or simply expresses it in instant, he speaks about it if necessary as he had often done but he is always direct, without doubting to be clear and not hesitating to insult his brother in the process.

"Your mom?"

"No."

Suna knows that Osamu doesn’t actually have arguments with his mother. They have always gotten along well, and much more since his brother has moved to Osaka because that implies that they can now cook together and without rushing, not as quickly as they used to because Atsumu is hungry, and if Atsumu is hungry, you have to hurry up with the food.

"You?"

Suna knows the answer. Suna knows too much.

Osamu bites his lower lip as soon as his gaze falls on the counter, lost like him, while at no time does Suna stop looking at him because it’s true that his phone slips many times from his hands, that every once in a while Komori reminds him that his laces are untied because he doesn’t realize it, and that Washio always knows where his earphones are when he thinks they are gone forever, but it’s also true that he is no fool, and that if at that moment he is next to him, it’s because he has had three years of high school to learn how to decipher the Miya brothers. Both, both equally, but lately, one more than the other.

Suna knows where he is. Hyogo, the Miya’s house that he knows very well, together with Osamu.

And yet, anyway, he feels lost.

He is invited to that house and can declare the kitchen counter of that place as his own because that is the way he has become accustomed to do, but he still doesn’t know his exact place; although this doesn’t prevent him from finally moving one of his hands towards Osamu's face to caress his skin as the back of his fingers brush his cheek to attract his attention, which he half achieves because Osamu is not looking away now but is still looking at the counter. Osamu doesn’t oppose to the caress nor reacts in a bad way, he just stands still and with his eyes on the counter as well as his hands together and his elbows resting on that place.

Suna feels lost because he doesn’t know if he wants to hug him and he doesn’t know if Osamu wants him to hug him, because he believes that he has already lost the notion of what he can and can’t do, of all the times he has tried to understand what kind of caresses are those to be part of the silent deal they have made some time ago, what kind of loving gestures can be part of the repertoire that they have created and which must remain excluded from it under any circumstances. He feels that lost is the only way he can describe himself because he never knows what kind of emotional and physical plane he meets Osamu on.

"I feel lost."

Suna stares at him, wondering if he is so lost to the point of not realizing that he opens his mouth to express those words out loud, but understands that perhaps he is not the only one, rather it’s clear to him that he is not the only one to feel that way because he is not the person who has spoken those words, but Osamu. Suna believes that there are many things he knows while others don’t, but at that time he does know that Osamu has not refused the caress nor does he seem to be upset with it. "Do you want a hug?" He decides to ask him.

Defining what a hug is, it’s easy. It’s the act of surrounding someone with your arms or two people, maybe more people, embracing each other as a sign of affection, fondness, etc. Suna wants to laugh but doesn’t. Affection? Fondness? Is that how he feels about Osamu?

Osamu allows their gazes to meet.

"We can do that?"

"I don’t know Osamu, can we?"

They say desperate times require desperate measures. Osamu moves and this time his hand does find the fabric of Suna's jeans when it’s placed on his leg, but not to approximate it to the zip of his clothing, but to raise it to his waist and then add the other and thus surround that part of his body with his arms as Suna surrounds his neck with his, neither speaking a word nor again asking if it’s possible because just as there are some words that need to be said, there are other words that don’t need to be expressed and other questions don't need to be asked.

The definition of a hug is easy, the feelings caused by a hug, not so much.

It can be happiness, it can be pain, too. It can be fake, it can be honest.

It can be the right gesture at the right moment, a physical action but also an emotional one because a hug is free but not something that you give to every single person you meet as you somehow manage to make your way through life. A hug can mean nothing or be totally intimate; a hug can be many things as it can mean a void, a failed attempt, and that is a real fortune because neither Osamu nor Suna know how to define the hug between them.

They can only say that it feels good.

_Nice_.

Suna leaves his chin on Osamu's shoulder while Osamu hides his face between his shoulder and his neck, realizing all the times he has done that action to decorate Suna's paleness with some purple mark, but without really paying attention because at that moment he doesn't do it to kiss Suna's neck, but to take Suna as his refuge because Suna allows him to.

It should be awkward, perhaps. They are accustomed to the contact, more than accustomed since that is the pact they have, a physical agreement where their bodies are travelled by fingers and mouths, paths of kisses that in return obtain pleasant sounds passed through swollen and known lips. But it's not uncomfortable, and in fact, it feels natural, and that; that is very scary.

Suna thinks about offering to make him a tea not to escape the situation, but because he knows that Osamu doesn’t really like coffee and the only thing he can have is tea when he feels that he is full, in that case not of food, but of feelings; but it’s in that suggestion of his own head that he realizes that he would know exactly which shelves he should open and in which drawers he would have to look to make a tea, handling that part of the kitchen turning out to be a facility because he is used to being there. An irony considering that he lives in Nagano now.

For that same reason he feels lost.

He doesn’t feel lost because he can no longer remember all the times he has been there, many of those times with his uniform on as well as his sport clothes because going to Osamu’s and Atsumu's house is something he has been doing since his second year of high school, although the reasons have changed over the years. He feels lost because despite knowing where the kitchen utensils are and where the bathroom door is, he doesn't feel entirely welcome when Osamu invites him to spend the night. Would that night be the same as always? Would anything change? Now that they have shown what it means, what it feels to be held, will something change?

He is lost because he doesn’t know at what moment he has missed the notion of limits regarding his relationship with Osamu, because he is sure that there is a relationship. What kind, he doesn’t know, but it is a relationship.

"Do you want to tell me what's wrong with you, or should I stay quiet?"

Among them they don’t say words to decorate the environment because they know that they are not necessary and that silence is not taken as an enemy, although there are times when it becomes a permanent annoying guest. With Osamu they have plunged into a strange routine. They know each other's bodies perfectly, where to caress to later hear a moan, where to brush with their fingers to provoke a daring smile, what words to murmur to increase the heat of the moment; they are adept at provoking each other with gestures and words and they never doubt their actions when only pleasure and making each other feel good is what matters.

Suna believes the doubts start later.

What is right and what is wrong. What is allowed and what can’t happen under any aspect. Suna thinks about the irony of his question. When it comes to only Osamu, he doesn't hesitate to ask him if he wants to talk to him about the matter, but as soon as he thinks about talking to him about the relationship in which they have inadvertently plunged, he doesn't dare open his mouth.

Suna feels lost because Osamu is hugging him, but Osamu turns out to be the same person who has every right not to say a word about it if he wants to; since some words are said and some questions are asked while other sentences remain forever stuck both in their throats and in their minds, sometimes about to be said between sighs, moans, and whispers.

"Doesn't it bother ya if I keep huggin’ ya?" Osamu asks him.

His voice muffled because it finds Suna's skin.

"If I didn't want you to hug me, I'd have already pushed you and you know that."

Suna smiles as he feels Osamu's arms tighten even more around his waist, and the only thing he can ask himself is if he is also partly to blame for Osamu finding himself that way, since he knows that he would be lying to himself in case of expressing with total certainty that Osamu and his life don’t matter to him and that for the only reason that he is there is because he wants them both to end up in Osamu’s bed as they are used to do.

"I don't like culinary school." Osamu admits.

It’s an advance, because in reality, although Osamu is totally sincere and many times his expression shows the emotions of the moment, many other times he doesn’t hesitate to hide his feelings behind a serious expression as well as a distant attitude. Because sometimes he may not seem like it, but he is a human just like all the rest of the people.

"Why not?"

"I don’t like t' be told what to do."

A presumptuous smile takes hold of Suna's face as the black of his nail polish disappears between Osamu’s locks while he leaves his other hand on the back of his neck. "How strange is that, I don't remember you complaining about the same thing with me." He murmurs next to his ear without losing his sarcastic smile, and bites his lower lip when Osamu's fingers sink into the gray color of his shirt.

"Yer the exception."

Suna knows that if he had offered to make Osamu a tea, he would have only added a spoon of sugar because that’s how Osamu likes it. He also knows that Osamu likes loose clothes, that he loves food, that green is his favorite color and that he prefers the mountains before the beach but summer over winter. But there are also many other details that he doesn’t know, because he knows how to read different types of setters and spikers, even middle blockers and liberos, but Osamu continues to be a complete enigma. He can’t decipher the true intentions behind his words, and if he chooses to inhale a breath of air instead of arching an eyebrow, it’s because he knows that it’s not the time to question everything as he usually does.

Osamu seems to be the exception for him too.

"And what do you want?" Suna asks him.

"A lot of things."

"Tell me then."

Suna chooses to continue with his arms hanging around his neck once Osamu stops embracing him though his hands slide to the sides of his waist, the light blue and white colors still hugging his arms up until his elbows because he never misses a chance to wear his EJP jacket ( _It suits ya_ , Osamu had said. _I'm happy that you think that_ , Suna had thought, yet _I know_ , Suna had replied). Suna looks at him because Osamu looks at the counter while their faces are still close.

Lost. He loses himself looking at Osamu. He can do it for hours and not get tired.

"I want my own business, I don't want anyone to give me orders."

"You do know that involves talking to people anyway, right?"

"People don't bother me, orders bother me."

"And what about culinary school?"

"I don't need it, I know how t’ cook."

Suna lets out an innocent laugh when he hears him and tilts his head to get Osamu to look at him to stop watching the kitchen counter, although his eyes quickly slide a little towards the not so naive smile that Suna still carries. "Your arrogance is impalpable."

"It ain’t arrogance."

"And what is it then?"

"Confidence."

"Then tell me what else you want." Suna suggests.

Osamu looks at him but then runs his gaze and also pulls apart from Suna, getting him to cross one of his arms around his stomach to rest his elbow on the back of his hand and thus rest his cheek against his knuckles, having to warn his body that this time he must get used to the lack of Osamu's body with his. It’s not a complaint, it’s a fear really, because it’s not exactly a complaint, and if there was nothing more than a physical agreement, then it wouldn’t bother him to miss Osamu's body although he only chose to separate from him, he still continues in front of him.

"I want t’ understand you and Aran-kun," Osamu says, stroking his own hands. Experiences of spikes and passes and serves, and high-fives with teammates, knowledge of temperatures and kitchen tools, skills that allow him to awaken the worst and best of Suna in the right way. "And ‘Tsumu."

"Why do you say that?"

Osamu shrugs. "You are still playin’ volleyball."

Suna chooses to gently tug on his shirt to get his attention and he succeeds because Osamu looks at him. "Do you think your brother understands me?"

"No, not even I can understand ya."

"Then what you are saying makes no sense. Do you want to play again? Is that what you mean?"

"No."

"So?"

"You know what to do, what you want."

"You too." Suna assures him. "You know what to do, what you want."

"No, I know what I want but I don't—"

Suna covers Osamu's mouth before he can continue speaking. "You do know what to do. You don’t like culinary school? Then you can only leave it." Osamu complains, but it’s enough for Suna to blink for him to stay quiet. "Learn how to create your own business and start from the bottom because that is the only way you have left. Cook and fall in love with what you do. You miss your brother? Don't be an idiot and call him." Osamu frowns at him and Suna arches an eyebrow. "Yeah, jerk, I know you miss him, so you should call him and tell him this too. Because if there is someone who knows you better than me and yourself, it’s him whether you want to or not."

Osamu wraps his fingers around Suna's wrist and they both look at each other when Osamu rests a kiss on the palm of his hand that continues on his mouth, the gesture getting Suna to finally stop holding his hand over his lips.

The relationships between pride, vulnerability, weakness, and love are always a chaos. Osamu thinks that his pride is shown in not showing himself, the disaster he feels inside his head being evidence of the same. Somehow Suna is getting him to speak, and if he has to be honest, he isn't surprised.

"He is so stupid."

Osamu takes advantage of the fact that he continues with his hand around Suna's wrist to make him bring his arm to his neck just as Suna also carries the other on his own, and Osamu again chooses to put his arms around his waist, attracting him until the fabrics on their shirts brush.

"Tell me something I don't know."

Suna knows too much, Osamu knows this, as well as he also knows that Suna is not the only one to blame for all the details that his head retains. Osamu bites his lower lip before approaching Suna, and again hides his head between his neck and his shoulder, this time allowing his lips to meet Suna's skin. "Him and all that crap of the happier life." He whispers as Suna lets him know that his words against his neck tickle because he rests his hands on the back of his neck.

"For once," Suna starts, "I don't think that what he said is pure crap." Osamu frowns upon hearing him and faces him again, his frown slightly furrowed. "With those words he is making you want to change to be better, isn't he? He is forcing you to be on his same level, to achieve the same level of happiness."

"Don't defend him."

"You offend me, I would never."

Suna stares at him to assure him that he is not defending Atsumu, because really, he would never, but to remind him that if they are no longer the twin who plays volleyball and the twin who no longer plays volleyball, it’s because they both have the same passion and determination. Osamu inhales, believing that Suna is dangerous, that he himself is dangerous, and that he, along with Suna, is even more so. Suna knows how to read him, knows what to say, and he still doesn't know how to react to it. He believes that exposing his thoughts to Suna is a sign of weakness, of being vulnerable, and he doesn't know if he's ready for Suna to know that part of him, although he probably already does.

But Suna enunciates words and proposes solutions, still without knowing his role in that situation. He is lost although for him Osamu's future is clear because he is not his boyfriend but he is not only his friend. They are not a couple but they are not complete strangers either. Sometimes he considers that Osamu is still a player although from another team that he must learn to read. Many times he thinks he can do it while other times he feels that he is the person who is blocked.

The truth is, that to love and be loved, you have to know and be known.

Osamu knows Suna, Suna knows him, he is sure of that as he is aware that unless he opens up, Suna can't really get in. And that is a problem because he believes that only with Suna is he willing to give himself up, to let himself fall because even if Suna doesn’t look like it, Suna will be there. He is there, here, right now. He believes that he is a problem himself, because he wants Suna but he’s selfish in thinking that he doesn’t want Suna to know all his parts.

"And you?" Osamu asks him.

Suna tilts his head. "What about me?"

"What d’you want?"

"You said you wanted a lot of things. Don't you want anything else?"

Suna plays the same game and this is why they are like that.

Pulling and leaving, being susceptible to someone is always scary.

"You know what I want, I told ya before. So tell me, what do you want?"

They both know that life doesn’t become amazing as soon as you finish school and therefore seeing the same teachers and the same people because now you have new responsibilities and also new problems, and it becomes even more complicated when those problems are related to people you haven't stopped seeing since your high school days.

Suna joins his hands behind Osamu’s nape and opens his mouth but says nothing.

He believes that people can still find a way to cause him pain no matter if they don’t seek to do so and no matter how many barriers he creates. Osamu does it. He knows that Osamu doesn't want to hurt him, but that he does anyway, and that's how he realizes that then, answering his question shouldn't be a problem.

"Am I your secret?" He asks him instead of replying.

He shouldn't mind. Feeling lost when it comes to Osamu shouldn't be a possibility, and yet that's how he feels. _Vulnerable_. Because to be vulnerable means to put yourself in a position that could hurt you, to stand and exhale a big breath of air expecting the worst. And when at that moment the only thing Osamu does is break the seriousness of his face to allow a funny smile to replace it and later laugh before ducking his head and shake it, Suna swallows because he shouldn't care, but he does care, and for the same reason he asks, "What are you laughing at?"

"You." Osamu raises his head and Suna should feel hurt but he doesn't because Osamu passes his hands under the fabric of his shirt so that he can make direct contact with his skin. Because yes, Osamu believes that the EJP jacket suits him and that the gray color of his shirt makes it stand out, but if he believes that there is a better view, a better feeling that implies more than just looking, it’s his skin with his skin. "You tell me that I believe that we are in the middle of, what didya say just a minutes ago, stupid and pathetic movie? And yet you want us to be part of a movie. Tell me, what is a secret?"

Suna frowns and Osamu thinks he's pretty. "Something you don't want people to know." He doesn’t need a dictionary or google to find out because that's how he feels, how it feels. Sneaking, always in the middle of the night. He's still surprised that they are talking as the sun goes down. Because as he thinks, he knows that Osamu doesn’t seek to hurt him, but he does it anyway and the reality is that he can’t complain because he hurts Osamu in the same way.

"My secret is that I don't want ya t’ be a secret, Suna."

"If it's a secret why are you telling me this?"

Osamu can only smile and Suna feels lucky. He is realizing that maybe he and Suna work together because they are just as stubborn; because being stubborn is trying to stay in the same position or hold the same opinion ignoring the details around you, and the reality is that it’s impossible to ignore everything around them, it’s not possible to ignore each other, that’s obvious.

"Cuz I'm done with it, with us being’ a secret."

He also understands that perhaps Suna always speaks in a low voice when he is with him because he doesn’t need anyone to listen to him other than him, and this is how he feels at that moment. He doesn’t feel that he wants to shout the way Suna guides his thoughts and changes the rhythm of his heartbeat, he doesn’t need to take Suna’s hand in front of all their friends to demonstrate how close they are, as well as he doesn’t dream of uploading photos to his social media with Suna by his side so that everyone knows about them. He just wants Suna, and only Suna, to listen to what he has to say.

Suna looks at him and perhaps Osamu is no longer afraid.

"I don't take a five-hour train just for the sake of it, Osamu." Suna chooses to reply, still looking at him because there is nobody else to look at, and if there were, he would still have his eyes on Osamu anyway because in fact it has always been like this. "I could hook up with anyone, with someone who is closer, and yet, when I can, I take the train to come back here and not because I’m a melancholic and nostalgic person that misses Hyogo."

"I want ya." Osamu confesses.

As he has said, he can’t do this anymore.

Even if Suna had told him otherwise, that he only happened to visit him because he had nothing better to do every time he returned to Hyogo and because the physical contact between them was nothing but fun, he thinks he would have decided to say those words anyway, since if with confidence he had assured his brother that he didn’t want to continue playing volleyball in the same way that he had also expressed that he wants to start his own business instead of continuing to study under the instructions of someone else, why can't he dare to do the same when it comes to Suna?

If there is anything worse than making decisions, it’s expressing them out loud.

Osamu looks at him and Suna straightens when he approaches him. Deciding to love someone is not really a decision, it just happens. Sometimes a glance or a couple of words is enough for your brain and your heart to agree and say yes, we love this person and we don’t care what you may say, and you better follow their advice because otherwise you will have to endure an emotional battle that takes place no more and no less than within you. It’s tiring, it’s exhausting, and both Osamu and Suna know this because just as there are certain things that are clarified between them, many other times it’s necessary to pronounce a minimum number of words to clarify the situation.

"I want you." Suna repeats on his lips before Osamu doesn't need more to kiss him.

Kisses, caresses, skin, they know about that.

Hugs, feelings; actually, they know about that too.

Suna wraps his legs around Osamu’s waist to draw him even closer to him. They are used to their lips being that way, to their eyes closing as they wonder what exactly is between them, what is missing and what is already there.

Sometimes feeling lost is a good thing.

Lost among all the many memories they have created thanks to the moments they have shared, built little by little, with caresses that have quickly begun to be accompanied by doubts, in the way in which they have slowly stopped considering the other as simply someone with whom share physical caresses to begin to feel more, to develop feelings that they didn’t expect to feel. Lost between all the kisses given and the hugs that from that moment on it’s evident that can be given. Because when you think about being lost in someone else's arms and affection, lost doesn't sound like a bad thing anymore, does it?

"Do you know what you should do?" Suna asks him, and Osamu kisses him again.

"What?"

"First, you should cut your hair." Osamu allows an expression of offense to invade his face and Suna smiles while caressing his two-colored locks. "It all starts with a haircut." Suna adds, and Osamu can't deny that he has been thinking about letting his hair show its natural black again. "Second, you should talk to Kita-san."

Osamu licks his lips and stares at him, puzzled.

"Seriously?"

"What?"

"D’you really have t’ mention my brother's boyfriend when I'm kissin’ ya?"

Osamu complains when Suna tugs on his hair on purpose.

"Seriously, I mean it." Suna says, Osamu raises an eyebrow. "He could help you if you want to start your own business and we both know that Kita-san is an organized person. You trust yourself, okay, trust him too. You say you don't want to be told what to do and yet he was your captain just as your brother was too. And why? Because you trust them."

"And what about trusting ya?"

Trusting someone is difficult, too. You must learn to do it, sometimes life demands you to do it. It can happen step by step, with moments that assure you that you can do it, while other times you have no choice but to think that you will be fine without knowing what awaits you. And trusting yourself? It can be so difficult that sometimes it seems impossible. Osamu understands that he can do it, that he can trust himself to trust Suna, but that he also needs Suna to trust himself, and so he realizes that what is between them is all but simple. It’s not complicated, they just have to trust themselves.

"Do you think you can do it?" Suna lowers one of his hands to his chest.

"What if I already do?"

"What if I already do too?"

Osamu exhales the breath of air that he had unconsciously perhaps been holding all along. Maybe because finally he no longer feels tense since finding, and even better, loving someone as stubborn as you can be as difficult as entertaining, or perhaps because a smile is the one to decorate his face at that moment.

"Then, my dear Rin, we are completely lost."

Suna laughs upon hearing him and they soon kiss again.

The interesting thing about feeling that you are lost is that this confusing instance allows you to make a series of decisions and therefore you have the final domain. You can take advantage of the sudden and temporary doom you feel to start again, retrace your steps, or decide to continue moving forward. You decide where to go, which way to go, where to look and what to choose. You find yourself on an unbalanced plane that ends up transforming into a stable surface when you decide to receive perdition as a friend and realize that being lost is the most common thing. It only takes a shrug and an arrogant smile.

Sometimes, also the company under the name of Suna Rintarou.

How good it feels to be lost. Who wants to reach the final destination anyway?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
